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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952175">Boundless and Bare</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Hatter/pseuds/Adeline_Hatter'>Adeline_Hatter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Clara finds her because Clara is there to steal another TARDIS, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Corpses, Missy destroys Gallifrey, Missy is resurrected, Murder, No happy ending to be found, Percy Shelley references, Pre-Episode: s12e01 Spyfall Part 1, Regeneration, Weapons of Mass Destruction, graphic depictions of murder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:47:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Hatter/pseuds/Adeline_Hatter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She stood in the ashes of Gallifrey, built to fix nothing and do nothing but weep for the child. </p><p>Weep for herself first though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/Missy, Twelfth Doctor/Missy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Boundless and Bare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ANGST </p><p>Welcome to something that has been on my mind for WEEKS thank you to Raindropsonwhiskers on beta reading this and saving my tenses. </p><p>Enjoy. </p><p>Actually get a strong drink... And then enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She doesn’t know where she is, but she distinctly remembers dying. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, you are awake Lady Oakdown.” It is the stiff tone, the arrogance that makes her pause, that makes her wonder if she has found herself back in the worst place she could <em> possibly </em>find herself in newly resurrected.</p><p> </p><p>At least, she assumes she is newly resurrected, it is the only way one would get her even <em> near </em>Gallifrey again.</p><p> </p><p><em> Lady Oakdown. </em> What a novelty, being referred to with a title, they hadn’t done that in years, not since the first crime she managed to pull off. </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t open her eyes, she won’t, not yet, she doesn’t want to see them yet because the bastards are bastards and whilst she likes her life.. She would prefer she be the only one to have control over it. </p><p> </p><p>Missy’s memory is slow, she remembers dying, she just doesn’t remember <em> how </em>yet. </p><p> </p><p>Still, she should focus on getting out of here first. </p><p> </p><p>It is all too easy to knock the man next to her out, she doesn’t recognise him nor does she particularly <em> want </em>to recognise him right now. </p><p> </p><p>Really, they should learn one of these days to just leave her dead. </p><p> </p><p>She should kill him, leave him dead here in the infirmary and go on walking, but there is a little voice in the back of her head now… Tiny, infinitesimal truly, though she listens to it and just walks away, despite how annoying it is.</p><p> </p><p>Besides, she can always swing back around later.</p><p> </p><p>Missy leaves the infirmary, she can remember the basic directions of the citadel, a left here, another left there, three rights followed by a straight ahead into what most people think is a dead end but is actually a fake holographic wall because some Lord Cardinal couldn’t be bothered to walk the long way around.</p><p> </p><p>She arrives first at the Matrix Chamber, oh, it had been awhile since she was last in here and not a part of it… The Panopticon room remained unchanged from the days of hers and the Doctor’s youths, still ugly and annoying in design. </p><p> </p><p>Though she <em> did </em>have some fun there in the past, despite once being killed by Jelpax because she wasn’t a coward, unlike him. </p><p> </p><p>She turns slowly to look at the room, still a little disoriented but the memory of that time she’d killed Rassilon comes back around too. Her smile is easy to regain now and she laughs, hearing it echo.</p><p> </p><p>Something pulls at her mind now, her very consciousness and she looks at the platform in the center of the chamber, it felt like it was calling… Whispering… </p><p> </p><p>Her hand skims the edge of it, before she lifts herself up to stand on it, forgoing the stairs for now. </p><p> </p><p>She finds herself taken in almost immediately, like she’s being welcomed home properly after a long journey. </p><p> </p><p>Missy mingles in memories, playing as child with the Doctor and the others in the tunnels under the Panopticon room, running through fields and breaking locks on labs with the Rani late at night, long drawn out arguments between her, Magnus, Jelpax, Mortimus, Rallon, Millenia and Vansell over who was allowed to ask Theta out… </p><p> </p><p>Then the rampage she joined the others on when they found out that Drax had done what they all claimed they could.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t often find herself wallowing in nostalgia, but the pang that goes through her is real, she is allowed to miss her friends, her childhood… Her <em> Doctor.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Stand… It’s time to stan-  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Matrix shifts, slowly at first but then she realises that she is not the one moving it- </p><p> </p><p><em> “A long time ago, a traveller took to the stars.” </em> The narration starts and she is left watching a familiar planet below her, as a ship flies past, it is tinged with northern details and her nose wrinkles at the sound of it, familiar but also distant as well, as if it was not in her present. <em> “Tectuen wanted to explore the universe, she travelled as far as the solar winds would take her until she reached a boundary…”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Once again the scene shifts and Missy watches. <em> “Tectuen found something beneath that boundary, a child whom she adopted and took home…”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Missy watches the woman approach the little girl, something in her seizes up as she stares at the child, who is familiar but she cannot place her yet.</p><p> </p><p>More scenes pass, same commentary, it seems a little sarcastic if you ask her like it is being spoken with contempt and anger, things she is so very familiar with at this point. </p><p> </p><p>She watches the little girl be pushed. </p><p> </p><p>She watches the little girl regenerate. </p><p> </p><p>Missy watches and she realises too late who the little girl is. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>It is all in the eyes, wide, familiar and gazing at the stars as time moves forwards, as the child keeps regenerating- keeps being <em> forced </em>to regenerate over and over again and that hurts…</p><p> </p><p>Her hearts pound with each shift of the room, with each spin that equates into a different form of the child lying there on that table, she watches as the child’s expression changes slowly and she is familiar with how. </p><p> </p><p>Because she’d been there once, when she was small and percussion took more roots in her brain then she knew just yet. </p><p> </p><p> The narration continues but she is only half listening now, eyes wide as she takes in every detail of the child, every way the child’s eyes flicker around still shining with just the right touches of hope that tells Missy who they are. </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t want to watch anymore- It had to stop didn’t it? It should stop why wouldn’t it stop when her hearts were breaking, she doesn’t want to watch this she- She wouldn’t- </p><p> </p><p>Tectuen now lies in the place of the child, <em> “She isolated the source of the child’s regenerations, now willing to test it on herself.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“No-” Missy’s voice leaves her as she watches Tectuen regenerate and she <em> understands.  </em>“No.” She repeats, firmer now, stronger, curiosity roiling with the nausea with the… pain. </p><p> </p><p>She could feel the pain, the Doctor wasn’t like her- the Doctor… </p><p> </p><p><em> “Stop.” </em>She tells the Matrix but it doesn’t answer her will. “Stop it- I don’t want to-” </p><p> </p><p>Ireland, it morphs into Ireland and… Why does it do that? </p><p> </p><p>Missy roils, though she doesn’t know what she is angry for as she watches a ginger boy called <em> Brendan </em>of all things take a job, as she watches him fall too, as she watches him age but no one else around him doing the same, anger courses through her with every second that passes and she watches as a chameleon arch is placed atop his head. </p><p> </p><p>She hears the silent scream that rolls off of him, the shock, the… </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor, they weren’t the same were they? How could they be the same, when… <em> No, </em>she refuses to believe that. </p><p> </p><p>They had to be the same, it only made sense when they were the same… All of that pain they shared, the past… Running through fields, playing in tunnels- kissing in a corner of the library at Lungbarrow house- but it wasn’t… First.</p><p> </p><p>How could it not be first? When she was the Doctor’s first friend, his first enemy, his first… </p><p> </p><p>But she wasn’t the first, was she? Who was the first, <em> who who who- </em>How couldn’t she be his first friend? </p><p> </p><p>No, she was his first friend, how could she not be? How could she exist if she was not his <em> friend-  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m going to stand with the Doctor, it’s where we’ve always been going-”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>How many had stood with him before? How many had held his hand and cured his aching? How many had tried to kill him? How many- </p><p> </p><p>What greets her is a grey void, empty of information… Nothingness… </p><p> </p><p>It didn’t mean anything did it? That’s why she woke up on Gallifrey nowhere near him, he’d left her and abandoned her, worse he hadn’t trusted her because she was not the <em> First.  </em></p><p> </p><p>She was not his best friend was she? </p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t <em> special </em> to him, only <em> he </em>was special...</p><p> </p><p>But the timelords… Missy spins on the spot and stares at the void and all at once it disappears and she is left facing the High Council below her. </p><p> </p><p>They all seem pleased with themselves when they look upon her, standing in a neat little row with armed guards behind them, it’s all quite quaint. </p><p> </p><p>Lord President whatever steps forwards, she doesn’t know who he is but he smiles at her with what she thinks is supposed to be <em> warmth. </em>“Lady Oakdown, did you enjoy your trip into the Matrix? Do you understand now? That you cannot and will not be the same as the Doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>She cocks her head at him, shoulders tense and rage crawling under her skin. She takes him in, watches him and purses her lips together. “Understand?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve received you from death again so you may begin to be <em> better </em> then the Doctor, perhaps even you can kill her now.” <em> Her. T </em> he Doctor had regenerated- When <em> hadn’t </em>the Doctor regenerated? </p><p> </p><p>Missy peers at them all. “Better than the Doctor?” She wants to wrinkle her nose, she sounds like an imbecile child parroting their words back to them, but her tongue is heavy and weighed down by things she struggles to name.. But anger is undoubtedly the strongest cause.</p><p> </p><p>She must look so confused to them, or blank because they all nod in unison, “Yes, the time has come for the Doctor to be buried with our sins… We can bury yours at the same time Lady Oakdown, you could return to your estate.”</p><p> </p><p>“I burnt my estates.” </p><p> </p><p>“We can rebuild them.” It sounds empty, she knows that if she does kill the Doctor… if that’s even possible now, that they will kill her after she is done. </p><p> </p><p>She gauges them all instead. “What if I killed you?” This earns a laugh, disbelieving; they doubt her, they think her an impressionable corpse they’ve brought back. “No, don’t laugh… I wonder how your screams will sound? What pretty shapes will the smoke from your body make, oh Lord President?”</p><p> </p><p>The Lord President doesn’t even look concerned with the comments, though she notes the rest have taken a step back, subtle but abandoning him nonetheless. “If you kill me, how will you regain your estates Lady Oakdo-” </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Master.” </em>She returns to him, forcibly, forgoing her monica this time around and once again the whole room shivers, but he doesn’t seem moved, as if he doesn’t know who she is. “My name is the Master.” </p><p> </p><p>Eyes watch her and hands are placed on weaponry, ready to kill her if she so much as moves. “That was your name as a renegade my Lady, soon you will be returned to Gallifreyan society once more-” </p><p> </p><p>She interrupts him with a genuine laugh, now he flinches. “You cannot think I believe that lie, nor that I haven’t been offered it before.” She keeps giggling as she takes a step towards him, bodies move, guns are raised, eyes are trained on her and she keeps laughing, “Honestly, the only competent Lord President this council has had is Romana… And you all worked hard to remove her from that position, didn’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>The Lord President looks at her now, his expression faltering, <em> finally </em> he is scared and putting the pieces together. “You and the Doctor are not the same, she must be <em> stopped </em>my Lady Oakdo-”</p><p> </p><p>“MASTER!” She yells and he flinches again, hands fumble on weaponry. “My name is the Master and you will refer to me as such!” He takes a step back and the rage rises.</p><p> </p><p>Not the same.. How couldn’t they be the same, if they weren’t the same then… </p><p> </p><p>“Do you think… I can be so easily manipulated into doing your bidding Lord President?” She coos at him, feeling each and every guard turn their eyes away from her to him for just the smallest of moments, though none fear for the man, only for themselves like always. “Do you know how many people I’ve killed?” </p><p> </p><p>He swallows visibly and she grins at him. “There is a rough estimate in your file-” </p><p> </p><p>“That rough estimate only counts the <em> lesser </em>species of the universe… How many time lords do you think were removed from that number?” She makes sure her mouth is all teeth and lips turned upwards, she almost wishes for the lipstick she used to don just to see the pretty grin of hers reflecting in his eyes that widen with each passing second. “How many daleks? How many humans? Zygons… Cybermen…” </p><p> </p><p>She takes another step, hands fumble again and she knows she has them now. </p><p> </p><p>The Lord President is shaking at her feet below her on the floor, how quaint... </p><p> </p><p>“How many so-called ‘Master races’ have died at my hand?” </p><p> </p><p>Feet move, rushing away and down the halls before she can stop them, leaving the Lord President standing there shaking in their wake.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, would you look at that? I think you’ve been impeached.” She takes the knife on his belt and he shakes more when she raises herself back up to look him in the eyes. “Do not worry, I won’t make it last too long for you… I have so many other people to kill-” </p><p> </p><p>“Please!” He blurts it out, he looks like he’s going to start crying the wee thing. “I was only put into office because Rassilon was exiled off world-” </p><p> </p><p><em> Rassilon- “ </em>He’s alive?” She must sound surprised because he nods eagerly. “When did that happen?” </p><p> </p><p>The knife comes up to his throat and she realises how young he looks, probably barely a thousand. “They resurrected him because of that prophecy- The… The Hybrid.” </p><p> </p><p>“And they thought bringing the man back who started all of this was a good idea?” </p><p> </p><p>“Y...Yes…” She presses the knife in a bit. “Please, don’t kill me, I don’t want to die.” </p><p> </p><p>Missy tilts her head at him and her hair tumble around her, “Neither did I… Say something nice for me won’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nice? You have… Lovely eyes?” </p><p> </p><p>She hums, “Too bad.” </p><p> </p><p>His blood shines on the blade of the knife, as golden energy starts to build but she is quick to stab him twice in both hearts. </p><p> </p><p>The energy fades and she raises herself up, looks at the bloody knife in her hands and lets it drop to the floor, before picking it up, small and messy but it would do for now...</p><p> </p><p>There had to be something <em> better </em>here somewhere.</p><p> </p><p>It is easy to find the Vaults, it is even easier to find something to do it… But that little voice in the back of her head is yelling at her for some reason as she lingers on a weapon, as she thinks about the TARDIS and hears the talking of what can only be the students of Prydon. </p><p> </p><p>Gaggles of them… Some would have already looked into the Untempered Schism but others… </p><p> </p><p>She finds the small buttoned devince and stocks it in her pocket before turning to face the hallways, before she finds the plan that the tiny voice inside her head is whispering to her. </p><p> </p><p>There were innocents on Gallifrey weren’t there?</p><p> </p><p>But that could wait, first there was a High Council to hunt down, to shoot and stab, to throw off buildings and crush into the finest dust imaginable. </p><p> </p><p>She was going to mount the pressure so hard and high that a few may even turn into diamonds large enough to shove forcibly down Rassilon’s throat, she was going to slaughter and maim, kill every single one who dared stand in her way. </p><p> </p><p>Because the Master was <em> angry.  </em></p><p> </p><p>It was all she had left after all, wasn’t it?</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t matter, did she? Not to the Doctor, never to the Doctor, why would she when she clearly had more lives than anyone could count?</p><p> </p><p><em> Suffered </em>more at the hands of the timelord- </p><p> </p><p>The Master finds the Prime Inquisitor first, attempting to unlock a TARDIS in the bay, “You know, I knew a predecessor of yours?” She coos to this one as well. “She was a right old bitch and so much fun to see go…” It’s easy to slip their weapon from them, a blow to the brain stems, then a quick cut and she slits their throat when the light starts to appear on them.</p><p> </p><p>What was next? Who… The new Lord Cardinal would probably be attempting to clear out his office, Any High Chancellors tended to try and shred every single piece of evidence they had against them… </p><p> </p><p>It wouldn’t matter how she got to them, she just would. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>She has never heard Gallifrey this quiet. </p><p> </p><p>Even during the war there was always some sort of sound, a scream, a plea for mercy, babbling words as blubbering people ran away, a Dalek saying it’s stereotypical lines, never quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Never like this. </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t know why she takes the time to line the walls of the Matrix Chamber with the bodies of the high ranking officials, all neat in a row that slowly spans the length of it all around her, so that no matter where she looks she can take in her work like it is the highest form of art. </p><p> </p><p>“How does that one poem go again?” She speaks to the corpses of her people, all dressed in Prydonian robes- Oh they were losing their touch at equality again, then again they were all dead now so it didn’t really matter at this point. “That one by Shelley? I remember quite liking it…” </p><p> </p><p>The Master spins on her heels, taking in each gaunt face as they stare blankly forwards, her voice echoes slightly and she wishes she’d left <em> someone </em>alive to listen to her monologue, it was no fun with an audience that couldn’t look scared whenever she emphasised her point. </p><p> </p><p>Something in her tugs, tugs and pulls to let it coil around her in a wave of pain relief, but she staves it off. </p><p> </p><p>A lucky shot from one young recruit of the Chancellor Guard had landed in her left shoulder, but she didn’t regenerate, she wouldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>If there was one thing she could control in these moments, it would be her own death, her death would be inevitable after all, but she wouldn’t come back. </p><p> </p><p>The Master was going to die as Missy, that was what she could control, because she was… <em> Real </em>and not a pawn to be resurrected, or left behind, at the will of people who didn’t care about her- The Doctor didn’t care about her, she had made that clear hadn’t she?</p><p> </p><p>If not her alone, the timelords and the Matrix had hammered it home, one more lifetime and she wouldn’t even remember the Master’s name, nor her faces… Each chosen in moderation and concentration to like the looks and live as themselves each time. </p><p> </p><p>She was nothing wasn’t she? </p><p> </p><p>“How does it go…” She coos to the corpses, keeping her voice level because she wasn’t going to break in front of them <em> now </em>that would be silly, there’s a dull and hollow sound as twin beats fill the chamber, lonely and echoing. </p><p> </p><p>Her hearts keeping a rhythm that wouldn’t ever be matched again. </p><p> </p><p>“I remember…” </p><p>The Master turns her eyes to the sky, to where the ceiling opens up the shattered remains of the dome above her, she can see the smoke and they made such pretty shapes. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> I met a traveller from an antique land,” </em> She presses her lips together and shuts her eyes, “ <em> Who said- “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone-”  </em></p><p> </p><p>She spins and feels the energy scratching at her, begging to let her live, keep her <em> alive </em>to survive another day. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Stand in the desert…. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,” </em> She takes a breath, pushes the energy down again, refusing to let it rule her or command her, “ <em> Tell that its sculptor well those passions read-”  </em></p><p> </p><p>The Master lets the smell of ashe, of burning fires and the memory of abuse linger in her mind, “<em> -Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The Hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on that pedestal, these words appear-” </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> She opens her eyes and stares at the red sky high above her, at the gold blackened with her destruction, her chaos, “ <em> My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings-”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Her gaze returns to that of the corpses as she spins, holds her hands out as she goes and smiles at them all in turn, <em> “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>It echoes out, and she lets her smile drop down into a frown. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Nothing beside remains. Round the decay-” </em> Her hearts pound and the energy lingers, “ <em> -Of colossal Wreck, boundless and bare,”  </em></p><p> </p><p>It is only her now, only her and she is nothing. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “The lone and level sands stretch far away-”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Missy?” </p><p> </p><p>She snaps to the doorway with her gaze, taking in the small woman stood there eyes wide at the corpses surrounding her, at the destruction before her. </p><p> </p><p>The energy crackles in her very bones, trying to break them to reform them into something new, but she denies it again as she meets the woman’s gaze. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh…” She states it, blinking. “That’s funny, I knew I hallucinated but you are a very funny choice for my brain, Clara.” </p><p> </p><p>Clara Oswin Oswald stares at her, hair still cut into that ridiculous bob but her clothing is new and different, a long coat that seemed to sit on her like a blanket. “What happened here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh you know, a little bit of murder, some despair- I just recited <em> Ozymandias </em>by Percy Shelley, beautifully done if you ask me.” The Master grins at her, Clara doesn’t share the smile, not that she ever would, all the human hallucination does is take a step forwards in what looks to be knee high heels that would make the Rani kill her for. “My mind is making you look very different from the Clara Oswald I know…” </p><p> </p><p>Dark doe eyes watch her every move, or lack thereof. “Missy… Missy did you <em> do </em>this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Clara, Clara, Clara….” The Master tilts her head. “My name is <em> The Master, </em>firstly, secondly… Who else here would have?”</p><p> </p><p>She can see the young woman calculating it all, the bodies leant against the wall, her bloody hands, the name change. “Miss-” The Master stomps her foot, “<em> Master, </em>why would you do this?”</p><p> </p><p>“You… You must be here and real because if you weren’t you wouldn’t be asking me that question.” The Master tears her eyes from Clara and hears her take steps forwards, unafraid like the foolish child she really is</p><p> “Would you like me to show you? Show you what the Timelords have done? How…” </p><p> </p><p>Clara notices that she trails off, she knows she does. “Master, are you alright?” There is a soft kindness in her voice that contains just the right hint of the Doctor in its tone, but the rest of it was natural… <em> Human.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“I’m nothing.” The Master turns to face her again, stepping around on the platform, glancing at the former Lord President curled up in a position that definitely wasn’t<em> normal </em>on the floor. “Clara, at this very moment I am nothing, though I will die as myself and no one else.”</p><p> </p><p>A hand seizes her right wrist. “You can’t die, you have to regenerate.” <br/><br/>“Why can’t I die?” <br/><br/>“You know why, Master, you know.” </p><p> </p><p>The Master tilts her head at Clara. “Do I? I don’t think I have the faintest idea about why I shouldn’t Clara.” </p><p> </p><p>Clara’s grip is strong, strong but there is no beat beneath her skin, no time pouring off of her and the Master realises that this one human is dead. “I met the man the Doctor is when he doesn’t have you, it isn’t pretty.” </p><p> </p><p>“Do you mean bowtie? Also I think it’s <em> she </em>now, this one-” She jerks a finger at the corpse on the floor, “-switched pronouns, so I can only assume really.”</p><p> </p><p>The human’s gaze is so soft, wide, the Master can’t stop focusing on her eyes as she starts the Matrix up around her and shows Clara that the Doctor doesn’t change with or without her in the picture. </p><p> </p><p>She cycles through it all, feels her hearts pound, break, shatter over and over again, each moment hammering home and she watches Clara’s face, watches as the realisation dawns on her. </p><p> </p><p>Tectuen, the Child… The experiments… The birth of the Timelords as a species. </p><p> </p><p>Some part of her somewhere recognises the pain on the child’s face, knows it isn’t a good thing, that it doesn’t make them…</p><p> </p><p>“....That was the Doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, it’s the eyes isn’t it?” The Master asks her, watching her nod slowly as they return to the chamber full of bodies and whispers of time on the wind. “Always the eyes, that glimpse of hope that they never ever lose-”</p><p> </p><p>Clara’s grip tightens. “Missy, you have to regenerate-” </p><p> </p><p>“No.” The Master pulls it away, easy to break that grip. “No I don’t, maybe if I die I’ll mean something- She only ever remembers the dead ones anyway doesn't she- Oh, sorry, sore topic.” </p><p> </p><p>The dark doe eyes narrow and the Master wonders if Clara is aware how expressive they are, how deep and dark… </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Clara monotones at her, looking her over. “Very sore, but you know you can’t die.”</p><p> </p><p>The Master laughs, cold, cruel, “The universe doesn’t need me does it? Look around you Clara, look at what I’ve done- Do you know what is left here inside my hearts?”</p><p> </p><p>She brings her right hand up and pounds it against her chest, now Clara really does flinch.</p><p> </p><p>“Rage and pain, Clara, <em> Rage and Pain.” </em> She laughs again, disbelieving, manic really… She hasn’t been manic in so long. “For what they’ve done- For what <em> I’ve </em>done, for what… The Doctor has done in their names.” </p><p> </p><p>She’s yelling now, the energy is bubbling, fizzing, begging her to let it pull her apart and remould her into some new image.</p><p> </p><p>“The Doctor needs you-” </p><p> </p><p>“In the same way she needs a <em> pet </em>Clara, I’m no better than you are!” She sounds progressively more Scottish the louder her voice goes. “I’m just another pet, one she will forget as quickly as the years pass on your measly little planet-” </p><p> </p><p>Clara slaps her across the face. </p><p> </p><p>The Master blinks at her. “You are already dead aren’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p> </p><p>“You are very lucky that you are.” Clara rolls her eyes, as if she doesn’t scare her in the slightest, as if she doesn’t really… Feel. “Go away Clara, let me die amongst my work.” </p><p> </p><p>There’s the smallest of huffs, the tiniest of muttered swears. “Not until you regenerate-” </p><p> </p><p>“You just saw Clara, you just saw how <em> small </em>I am!”</p><p> </p><p>The Master watches Clara calculate it all, softly, slowly as she closes her dark, beautiful, large and expressive eyes. “Who’s going to tell the Doctor?” It comes out in the softest of ways, softer than the Master was capable of surely. “You know this but the Doctor doesn’t right?”</p><p> </p><p>She watches her, tilts her head and considers it. </p><p> </p><p>Clara smiles at her- No, grins, it’s definitely grinning. “Imagine how you could torture her with the information? Something you know, but she doesn’t? Missy, if you die here then who will tell the Doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>“I will.” The Master breathes it, “No one else can, I have to be by her side when she breaks- Then she’ll be on my level again.” </p><p> </p><p>She feels the energy gather more.</p><p> </p><p>“That wasn’t what I was trying to… Are you going to regenerate?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to have to, aren't I?” The Master states it. “The Doctor cannot remain a fool, it would be… <em> Good </em>of me to tell her wouldn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Clara’s eyes dart around the room. “I’d say you did something good here, with them…” </p><p> </p><p>The Master laughs, properly now, it’s genuinely baffling to hear this come out of Clara’s mouth. “Regeneration then? It’s begging me to do it you know… I suppose I will die in a way won’t I?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” If she was in her right mind, she would remark on how Clara sounds almost sad. “I suppose you will.” </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here anyway Clara?” <br/><br/>“I came to steal a TARDIS.” </p><p> </p><p>Missy laughs again, the tears flow down her cheeks, “That’s my girl.” </p><p> </p><p>“Missy-” </p><p> </p><p>But it’s too late, as Missy dies. </p><p> </p><p>And the Master returns. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh…” He breathes to the woman in front of him, eyes big and bold and he hopes his match. “I can’t breathe-”</p><p> </p><p>Clara bears witness as the timelord falls to the floor, in heels and a dress easily two sizes too small for him. </p><p> </p>
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